Apple Blossom In Her Hair
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Coda to "Rogue Planet". Captain Archer's fascination with an alien shapeshifter leads to a lively discussion about beauty and what defines the ideal mate.


Apple Blossom In Her Hair

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Enterprise_

Copyright: Paramount

/

"So lemme get this straight, Cap'n. Your idea of the perfect woman is 'young, with long blonde hair, and wearin' a nightgown'?"

Commander Tucker smirked across the private dining room table.

"I didn't say that," said Captain Archer. "I said she was my idea of the woman in the Yeats poem."

"Who you said represents a vision of perfection." Tucker pointed his fork triumphantly. "Seriously? Ya couldn't come up wi' somethin' a li'l more creative?"

His regional dialect was getting stronger, as it always did towards the end of the meal, especially a rich one like this. The two men had finished a bottle of red wine along with their steak and potatoes, and were now digging into sticky, sweet slices of pecan pie along with hot coffee. How they expected to get any sleep after that was a mystery, but perhaps camping on Tedalla (and rescuing a race of shape-shifters from a hunting party) had worn them out.

T'Pol, who had asked for mushrooms instead of steak, mint tea instead of coffee, no wine and no dessert, cupped her mug in both hands and listened to the debate.

"C'mon, Trip." Archer smiled back and punched his friend on the shoulder. "Don't tell me you wouldn't go after a woman like that."

"Sure, why not?" Tucker shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Thing is, though, if that life form wanted to talk to _me_, I bet she'd have real trouble choosin' the right shape. Me, I like all kinds o' ladies. Blondes, redheads, brunettes … ain't even particular about the species." His blue eyes darted over to T'Pol's for a fraction of a second before returning to his nearly empty plate.

T'Pol was not annoyed, but she did consider it necessary to puncture a hole in Tucker's smug attitude. He sounded as if he looked down on their captain for having too narrow a standard of beauty. As it happened, she agreed with Tucker, but there was no need for him to be rude.

"Are we to infer that personality does not matter in your choice of a mate, Commander?" she asked.

"Course it does," he shot back, blue eyes sparking with indignation even as his smile widened. "I like a girl with some sass in her. One who won't back down from an argument."

"Me too," added Archer. "In our defense, Subcommander, we human males aren't as shallow as you think. I don't limit myself to blondes."

"If you did, it would be logical," she said. "Being blond yourself. It is common for most life forms to seek out a mate who resembles them. Physical and cultural compatibility often ensures a successful union."

Thinking of Koss, though, she had to admit there were exceptions to that rule. He might have a social position, interests, education and – last but not least – species in common with her, but sharing her life with that bland nonentity of a man was something she intended to put off as long as possible.

"The shape-shifter's appearance was beside the point," said Archer, with an earnestness that surprised her; why should he care so much about her opinion on such a private subject? "She chose that shape because it was pretty, yes, but also because it wasn't real. Imitating someone I know would've made me suspicious. I helped her because it was the right thing to do, and because she had a … a kind of dignity about her." He lifted his hand and paused in search of the right words. "A strength that went beyond the physical. She'd been threatened, but she was fighting back, and still capable of trust. I admire that."

Archer met T'Pol's eyes, and she had the uncanny sensation that he wasn't talking about the shape-shifter anymore. He knew about Tolaris. After his visit in Sickbay, neither of them had mentioned the _v'tosh'katur_'s name even in passing, but the compassion in the captain's eyes told her he had not forgotten.

Tucker, sensing a charge in the atmosphere but unable to pinpoint its source, decided to defuse it: "Easy, Cap'n. 'Fore ya start writin' poetry, don't forget we're talkin' 'bout a six-foot-long slug here."

Archer laughed until his eyes watered, and Trip joined in. Even T'Pol's lips twitched a little despite herself.

"So I'm guessing you like 'em tall, dark and pointy-eared, huh, T'Pol?" said Tucker, quirking a blonde eyebrow at her in a way that made her wonder how much he guessed about her thoughts. Had he told the captain about the encrypted letter from Koss's parents? Archer, finishing his coffee, didn't look suspicious. If anything, he looked amused.

"Vulcan parents select mates for their children based on social and intellectual factors," said T'Pol. "Aesthetics are irrelevant."

"How romantic," Tucker drawled.

"Romance," she replied evenly, "Is a human construct. You must not expect every species you meet to share it."

"You're right," said Archer. "A pretty recent construct too. Started around the time when Yeats was writing – in the West, anyway. If you asked Hoshi, she'd probably give you a different perspective."

He had already recited "The Song of Wandering Aengus" to them earlier that evening. To T'Pol it sounded like a _pon-farr-_induced hallucination, but it did have an undeniable way of staying alive in one's memory. She could imagine the apple blossom girl herself, although she wondered if her version was anything like Archer's … and to her dismay, when she imagined Aengus, looking up from his campfire with ageless longing in his eyes, he wore the captain's face.

"I have to admit, though, I'm curious." In real life, Archer's gray eyes were reassuringly clear and focused as he leaned towards her. "How _would_ you describe your ideal mate? I'm sure you must have some opinions on the subject. I've never known you without one … an opinion, I mean." He smiled boyishly.

Once again – she had lost count several months ago as to how often – she asked herself what she had been thinking, volunteering to serve with humans. Vulcan men would have never asked her such an impertinent question. Archer would probably let it go if she asked, but Tucker could be unpredictable. How could she answer them?

"Logic, morality and good health would, of course, be my first criteria," she said. "Unconventional thinking would be another. My ideal husband would have to accept my choice to serve on _Enterprise_."

And her Pa'nar Syndrome, she thought, resolutely blocking out any and all thoughts of Tolaris. Unconventional indeed.

"I'll drink to that," said Archer, toasting her with his coffee mug. "Can't have someone coming to take away my science officer."

Tucker gave his captain a peculiar look, but joined in the toast anyway. "Hear, hear! To T'Pol's Mr. Right, whoever he might be."

How would they react, a well-hidden sense of humor prompted her to wonder, if she told them _she_ admired blondes?

Light hair was extremely rare on Vulcan, unless caused by age or albinism. Her own medium brown was as pale as they normally got. The incredible variety of humans had fascinated her during her first days on Earth, and sometimes still did. Looking at her two alien colleagues – light and dark golden hair, blue and gray eyes, shades of friendly humor as subtly different as their coloring – she remembered once again why _infinite diversity in infinite combinations _was the cornerstone of Surak's teaching.

The steward put an end to their discussion by quietly and respectfully coming in to clear the table. Once all the empty cups and plates were loaded on the cart, Archer had dismissed the crewman with a grateful nod and smile, and Tucker had called after him down the corridor to "tell Chef that pie was outta this world", T'Pol was ready to leave.

The vase of flowers in the center of the table, however, made her pause.

"Are those apple blossoms, Captain?" she asked.

The flowers were small and white, with a delicate fragrance that was only apparent now that all the food was gone. T'Pol touched a smooth petal with one fingertip, careful not to bruise it.

"Nah." Archer blushed. "I'm not actually sure what they are. They're from Hydroponics, and growing entire apple trees in there wouldn't be practical. Would you, um … would you like one? For your quarters, maybe?"

"Sir?" How did he know she found them beautiful? Was she that obvious?

"Unless the smell bothers you."

"Not at all. Natural fragrances have been known to aid in meditation."

She expected him to hand her the vase, but instead he broke off one small sprig and tucked it behind her left ear. He made sure not to touch anything but her hair; still, the warmth of his hand was startling. The petals tickled.

Tucker snorted. "Seriously? Ya can't expect her to walk down the corridor like that."

"And why not?" T'Pol said, adjusting her ornament. "Thank you, Captain. Do not expect me to make a habit of this, however."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Archer, standing aside to let her through the door.

With a chorus of goodnights, they went their separate ways along the corridor. T'Pol walked with her head held high so as not to dislodge the flower, deciding to refresh her xenobotany studies the next time she got the chance.

It would, she decided, be an effective way of blocking out the memory of the captain's voice reciting that poem.

"_Though I am old with wandering_

_Through hollow lands and hilly lands,_

_I will find out where she has gone,_

_And kiss her lips and take her hands … "_

Romance might be a human construct, but it was surprisingly contagious.


End file.
